


he walks over corpses.

by arurun



Series: a deeper look into them. [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Depression, Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 20:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arurun/pseuds/arurun
Summary: Because no matter what, Mukuro is still human. He's just so, very broken.





	he walks over corpses.

Very occasionally, Mukuro dreams of those days.

Those days, where 'pain' was the one thing he feared; 'pain' was the only thing he thought of; and 'pain' was the only thing he felt. 

Even after all these years-- even after he destroyed that family with his own hands years ago-- the memories never buried itself.

-

Today again, he bolts up from the bed.

A hand lands at the windowsill, the other clutching the bedframe-- he finds himself in his room; in the Vongola manor.

His breathing is ragged; His composure is lost. He's sweating profusely and his eyes are widened in shock. He fails to catch his breath, the dream still vivid in his mind.

His ears still rang, the sounds akin to the screaming and shrieking and screeching of the human laboratories-- the ringing pangs at his head like the  pounding he'd receive if orders were not obeyed or struggles were put up--

He squeezes his ears, trying to block out the noise. He knew it wouldn't work-- but the irritating squeal of his ears ringing did not die down. It was getting more irritating by the second-- and he was beginning to feel mad.

He drops his head against the wall by his bed-- he closes his eyes and tries again to breathe slowly. He bit his lip hard, trying to not just cry out in frustration--

But to his surprise, he chuckled.

 _What am I even doing?_  he thought,  _this is so unlike me._

_This is so unlike Rokudo Mukuro._

He chuckled-- his giggles growing more and more painful-- more and more...maniacal. This was one of the few moments he acted so exposed to himself. The few moments he could clearly see this side of himself. 

This side of himself that was just so, so dysfunctional; so, so broken.

He was merely a lunatic. He was merely a murderer. He was merely a psycho. Who was he to think he still had a place in this world? Who was he to try and stay alive?

_(Ah, yes.)_

_(I can't die.)_

_(I've gone to hell six times, after all.)_

Why can't these memories just go away? Why can't they just disappear-- melt away into nothing? Never come back up again? 

 _It's over. It's all over._ Mukuro could do nothing but chant this in his head. _They're all dead,_ he assured himself,  _I'm stronger now. No one can take me anymore. No one can take us anymore._

So why do these memories still scare me?

Mukuro never knew he still had tears in his system. He never thought he still had the ability to cry. But now, he was crying, and he really didn't know why.

 _A full grown man crying,_  he thought,  _hilarious._

He cackled like a lunatic, and sobbed like a baby. He laughed and he cried at the same time. He was so, so sad; and so, so happy. He was absurd. Crazy. Irrational. Preposterous. Ridiculous. Nonsensical. Deranged.

But he just couldn't stop cracking up at the hilarity of the situation. He just couldn't stop wailing for this agony burning in his chest. And this, Mukuro vaguely knew,

was Madness.

 


End file.
